


Not Today

by AgTung_Alcremist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Slice of Life, Spinach Quiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgTung_Alcremist/pseuds/AgTung_Alcremist
Summary: Maes Hughes stands in line for lunch after a particularly bad mission.
Relationships: Elicia Hughes & Gracia Hughes & Maes Hughes, Riza Hawkeye & Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Secret Snipers Exchange 2020





	Not Today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vandrell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandrell/gifts).



> FMA: Hughes, Team Mustang  
> Prompt: Riza, Roy, and Hughes trying to adapt to life after a particularly bad mission that takes them back to the war
> 
> Beta-ed by NatureGuardian101.

Maes Hughes stands in line for lunch. It seems so mundane, so normal, after a week in the southeast investigating a string of deadly bombings, sleeping in sweltering barracks, and eating K-rations for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Almost like Ishval, the spartan furnishings, death reports, the screams and explosions and blood and- nope. Not today. 

Hughes thinks about Elicia instead. Oh, sweet Gracia, darling Elicia... “Look! My beautiful daughter, Elicia!” He plucks a photo from the breast pocket of his uniform with a manic grin, waving it at the soldier in front of him- it’s Roy. All the better. “Isn’t she just an _angel_?”

Roy, to his credit, only sighs long-sufferingly before asking, “Why did I agree to stay an extra day?”

“Because Brigadier General Klemin wanted to see you, sir,” Hawkeye responds dispassionately, looking rather pleased that Roy’s bearing the brunt of a deluge of wildly cute pictures.

 _Remember that charming smile, those beautiful eyes_ , Hughes tells himself. _Think about Gracia_. “Look! Look at those wonderful eyes-- LOOK!” He flourishes yet another picture into Roy’s field of vision. “Look at them! Aren’t they beautiful?”

The line jostles forward, and Hughes sees it - the last piece of spinach quiche. Roy’s noticed it too; he’s reaching out to take it. Perhaps it’s because of the nostalgia of the moment, or maybe it’s the rapidly rising need to think about something else besides _Ishval_ , with its desert heat and blood-soaked ground and- nope. Not today.

Hughes swipes the last piece of quiche right from under Roy’s nose. 

Hawkeye just sighs and takes a pot pie from the next rack. 

Roy’s expression is priceless: Wide eyes, brows knit in slight annoyance, mouth parted in the epitome of surprise. It reminds Hughes of the first time he did that - back when they were young fools at the academy- all those long years ago. He can still see traces of the naïve boy on Roy’s face, though it’s been mostly replaced with aged lines - no, not _replaced_ , more like worn away by the harsh desert sand. From Ishv- nope. Not today.

Hughes smirks victoriously before Roy can gather his wits and compose himself (he’s unusually open today; is he going down memory lane as well?) and taunts, “Sorry, pal, spinach quiche _is_ my favorite. Just can’t resist it, you know!” 

Roy quickly contorts his face from dumb surprise to a holier-than-thou side-eye as he snatches the quiche from Hughes’ tray. He’s looking pretty damn smug, too. That’s the thing -- no matter how good of a friend Roy is, there are always times when Hughes wants to deck him. In the face. 

Hawkeye sighs again, louder this time, and looks like she wants to rub her temples. It reminds him suddenly, vividly, of Miss Wirraway, who always used to sigh and shake her head and say, in a defeated tone, “boys will be boys, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” That was what-- how many years ago? Ten? Twenty? Hughes can’t remember in the spur of the moment.

“You’re holding up the line, sir,” Hawkeye finally says, in a dangerous tone that probably signals something bad for the two of them. And yikes, she’s put down her tray and her fingers are twitching towards her gun - the one in the back holster. Roy gulps and hastily moves along. Hughes follows, picking up a chicken pot pie (or at least something that looks like it) as he exits the line. 

Roy takes that opportunity to smirk at him and Hughes is seriously considering the pros and cons of doing some punching. And then Roy trips over his own feet and nearly spills his lunch on the floor. 

Hughes laughs at him. Meanly. It might not be as satisfying as getting a hit in, but it’s pretty gratifying, all the same, to see Roy flail a bit like he’s slipped on ice, even if he rights himself in the end. 

By the time they've settled on a worn table in the corner of mess, a nice lunch (though it would be better with the quiche) on Hughes’ tray, he's almost forgotten about the tang of blood and the stench of decay -- almost. 

It’s been a couple years now, and he’s found that distracting himself with happy things - things like friends and family - pushes the depressing thoughts, of Ishval, of bloody murder, and of bloody sand, away quite nicely.

Roy says it's self-deception. Hughes calls it staying sane.  
  
  
  
(end)

**Author's Note:**

> Vandrell, I hope you like this work!


End file.
